As Long As You Love Me
by talentless-art
Summary: Ireland laid down on the lush green grass as he stared at the night sky above him.. He was notorious, sure, he was annoying, yeah, and almost everyone wanted him gone most of the time... Except for one person...  /ScotlandxIreland;T for mild swearing/


**A/N: **For those who are reading my other story, "Unforgettable Memory", i'm sorry. I've been distracted, you see, by this new pairing. Scotland x Ireland |D;; I can't help loving these two, especially because of these 2 certain OC's (one being mine, Ireland, and the other being my friends, Scotland) that make me feel like rolling around and aaaaagh they are the cutest. Seriously. Anyway, again, for those who are waiting for Chapter 5 of Unforgettable Memory, brace yourselves, it's coming soon! Now I present to you a short oneshot of one of my most loved pairings of eternity amen hallelujah.

Disclaimers:

Hetalia **is not** mine

Iain Stewart/Scotland OC **is not** mine

Quinn McKinley/ Ireland OC **is** mine

**As Long As You Love Me**

**(ONESHOT)**

Ireland laid down on the lush green grass as he stared at the night sky above him. He sighed, closing his bright green eyes, as the breeze flowed through his messy, semi-long, ginger-coloured hair. The tall grass hid him from reality, from the pain of work, the task to deal with life. It was all so stressful at this point, and by point I mean the point where even whiskey wouldn't wash out the feeling of stress. _'Ev'ryone seemed ta hate me ah' one point in time'_, he thought to himself. There was the viking occupation where he was forced to sell his own people as slaves by the Danish. The Nordics did not consider him as one of them. Scotland was the only one who was actually speaking to him at that time. There was also WWI, where he almost sided with Ludwig out of loathe of his younger brother, England, Arthur Kirkland. It sure was a good thing that he was knocked back to his senses by his older brother, Scotland. Oh and then there was _The Great Famine_. Everyone would literally not go near him. Then again, he was deathly ill and the disease could spread. Isolated from everyone for so long made him lose his mind. If it weren't for Scotland's constant letters, he wouldn't have been able to overcome that Famine. Scotland helped him through everything.

Scotland.

Scotland.

_Iain Stewart._

_'… 'Cept fer one person...' _Ireland opened his eyes slightly and stared up at the stars once again. Scotland, Iain Stewart, was a jerk to everyone, especially Arthur. He was also a jack ass, a conceited bastard, and a big-headed dumb ass, but...

"Quinn? S'at you there?" Ireland gave a slight jump, sitting up slightly and turning his head to the side. It was Scotland. "Son of a gun..." Ireland murmured, smiling slightly and waving at Scotland. "Iain, m' righ' here."

Scotland walked towards Quinn. The twat was wearing that kilt again, along with that dress shirt. "Quinny, what're ye doin' ere? Ih's late, at this hour, yer s'ppos'dly ah th' pub." Iain sat beside Quinn, staring at him with a thick raised eyebrow and chocolate brown eyes full of curiosity.

"Wull, s' calmer out here, y'know.." Quinn muttered, rubbing his eyes with one hand. He gave a small yawn, before lying back onto the grass. "Plan on stayin', Scotty?"

"A' came here lookin' fer yah. Wha' d'ye s'pect? Ah' hunt fer th' treasure n' jus' leave th' chest? Tha's only somethin' England would do." Iain replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes and laying down on his back as well.

There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes, until Iain spoke up. "...So... Wha's botherin' yah, Quinny?"

"Botherin' me?" Quinn looked at Iain, putting on that 'nothing's wrong' facade.

"Yeah. Botherin' yah." he looked at Quinn and frowned. "Ye know better than tah fool me with tha' fake smile, Quinny. A' know yah like th' back o' my hand."

"Whut if ye don' know th' back o' yer hand that well?" Quinn laughed, but gave up the facade and sighed. "... Jus' stressed 'bout normal shite..."

Iain hummed and ran his hands through his dark brown hair, messing it up more than usual. "Wull-" he cleared his throat and looked away from those bright green eyes and freckled face. "If ye need ta talk 'bout ih, m' here. Jus' sayin'..." he practically rolled to his side, away from Quinn, in embarrassment.

Quinn sat up and stared at Iain in surprise. He stared long and hard.

"_Ye can count on me if ye need someone tah run to."_

"_Don' cry, Quinny! Be tough, like yer big bro 'ere."_

"_We'll always be brothers, no matter wha' goes on b'tween us, go' it?"_

"_If ye need tah talk 'bout ih, m' here."_

"... you..." Quinn mumbled, looking at Iain who had his back turned to him.

"Wha'?" Iain turned his body slightly to face the redhead, but was shocked to see tears flow down his cheek.

"Q-Quinn? Wh-wha'd ah' say?" Scotland panicked, sitting up and gently wiping the tears away.

Ireland gave a laugh and hugged his brother. "Thank you." he repeated, giggling slightly now.

Ireland realized something very important that night. He realized that he would never be completely alone in this world. He realized that he couldn't care less about how everyone else felt about him. _As long as Scotland loved him._


End file.
